FYI…this is very NSFW.
She thought he didn’t know.
Gage’s eyes followed Tayler as she moved about the living room holding up small, colored pieces of paper against his stark, white walls. She wanted to paint and that, he could understand. She spent most of her time tending to patients in a hospital, so it made sense that she wouldn’t want to come home to a place equally as sterile. She’d said the white couches they could keep, at least until…and her sentence had trailed off just like that. Her eyes, clear and grey and full of life, had lit and with a smile, her beautiful face had fallen. He’d thought there was nothing else in the world that could surprise him, but a woman like this loving him…he hadn’t seen that coming a mile off.
He continued to watch her, arms folded as he leaned against the wall. She pretended to be occupied with her task, and pretended that she didn’t enjoy the feeling of his eyes on her, devouring her in a futile attempt at satiety. But every few moments or so, their eyes would connect and she would smile, undoing him and wounding him, in a good way. He would have gladly accepted being injured several more times as long as the outcome was the same; Tayler was alive.
“I’m going to ask you a completely irrelevant question.” She turned to face him. His eyes slid south, intentionally, before he caught her gaze again.
“What if we warm this space up with some grey?” she offered. “Thing is, if we do that, we have to get rid of the white couches.”
The right side of his mouth tilted up. She thought she could fool him. “Why?” he asked.
She stretched her arms wide. “Because I have a vision.”
“I see. And there’s no other reason you may not want white couches? Maybe because of how easily they get dirty?”
She grinned. The California sun beaming through the windows made her brown skin shimmer. Added to the view was the Pacific Ocean, the fresh scent in the air, and his woman standing comfortable without shoes in the middle of their living room. He’d been concerned about taking her away from North Carolina, her friends, and her work, but she was adjusting. The closure of attending Anya’s funeral, as well as the fact that Katia and her family were leaving Yearwood, had helped.
“What color chairs do you want?” he asked. “Because you know that’s how this works. You ask and it’s yours.”
She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Let me think about it.”
“And you want to paint the entire house?” he went on. “Even the bedrooms?”
Her grin widened. “Maybe one or two. Yours and one more.”
“Ours,” he corrected. “Do you officially want Ares to have a room, or did you have someone else in mind?”
She squinted at him in realization. “What do you know, Mr. Wolfe?”
He shrugged, feigning ignorance. “Nothing. Is there something I should know?”
She walked across the room, stopping a few feet in front of him. “I’m…not sure, yet. I might have some news.”
His gaze trailed over her hips. The past few nights, as he’d gripped her from behind, he’d noticed something. There’d been an added suppleness to her body, and with each pass of his fingertips over her skin, each deep thrust, he’d felt something stronger than the connection they’d always shared. He’d always assumed it was a myth, that nature had a way of telling a man before science did that he was about to be a father, but Julien claimed it had happened to him. And he was sure it was what he was currently experiencing.
“The Baby Wolfe,” he said, holding her at arm’s length.
She tilted her head to the side and frowned. “What?”
“I’m going to be a Papa.” He pulled her closer. “Because you are carrying The Baby Wolfe.”
She burst out in laughter. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Is that the news?”
She stared at him, eyes filling, and then nodded. “I haven’t confirmed it yet, but I think you are going to be a Papa, Gage Wolfe.”
“Haven’t confirmed it?” He pulled her close. “Did you pee on the stick, love?”
“Trust me, Gage, I know how accurate those things are these days. But I’d like to see it on an ultrasound.”
“The Baby Wolfe.”
She giggled and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Or the Wolfe baby. That sounds better.”
“Sounds like a TLC special.” He kissed the top of her head. “I like The Baby Wolfe.”
“How did you know?” she asked.
She looked up at him. “You can say it. It’s because I’ve gained weight.”
“Really?” He spun her around then pulled her back close. “If you have, it’s in the places I love.”
“I’m getting love handles.”
“Handles make for a better ride.”
He leaned down to kiss her. When they finally pulled away, she stared at him. “But really, how did you know? Was it Mo? Ari?”
He shook his head, a smile bursting through. He was damn happy. “I had a hunch.”
“Your gut told you?”
He kissed her again, lifting her. If she’d gained weight, his muscles couldn’t tell. Picking her up felt like he was carrying air, mostly because of what she’d just confirmed. Gage Wolfe, after losing everything important to him, had not only been blessed with Tayler, but with the start of a family he would protect with his life.
She secured her hands behind his neck. “I love you, Gage.”
He would never be able to explain to her exactly how he felt about her. Not with words. It was amazing what a year could do, and how much life could change over the course of months. She’d been part of his destiny. Fate, tired of him wasting his life away year after year, had angrily intervened by throwing him directly into her path. Then, it had made her need him while at the same time, he’d unknowingly needed her.
“Marry me, love,” he said, his nose pressed into her hair.
She giggled. “I already am.”
“No.” He leaned back so she could see his face. “Now.”
“But Gage, we’re planning a wedding.”
“We can still do that. Nobody has to know we’ve already married. The ceremony is for the guests, anyhow.”
She nuzzled her cheek against his. “You want to fly to Vegas or something?”
“That a yes?”
“Nothing would make me happier, Gage.”
“Well then, before we do that,” he began walking, her legs still wrapped around him, “there’s something else we need to do first.”
“Oh?” She tapped her chin. “What’s that?”
“It’s on our to-do list.”
“Right! The to-do list. I’m supposed to do you, aren’t I?”
“I believe so.”
“But I thought I checked that one off already?” She reached for his belt. “You mean, you can go more than once?”
He eased down onto the sofa, bringing her down with him. “Maybe.”
“Oh my, how scandalous!” She pulled his belt from the loops and tossed it behind them. “And just how many times can you go. Twice? Three times?”
His cock hardened as he looked at her, his future wife and mother of his child. Well, his first child. There would, without a doubt, be more.
Her head was down as she fiddled with the button on his jeans, and he couldn’t stop staring at her. She owned every part of him. Would she ever know? Would he ever know how to show her what he felt? She touched him, everywhere, from the racing organ in his chest to the erection that was almost painful because it remembered as well as he did how it felt to be inside his woman.
“Damn it, Gage.” She looked up. “We’re going shopping for new jeans for you. Tomorrow. Ones without buttons.”
He lifted her hands and placed them around his neck, then massaged her thighs. She was wearing a long dress, as usual, and he pushed the dress up until the center of her wet panties welcomed him. His mouth watered, her taste also well known to him, and he loved how she watched his every movement, like his thumb sliding over her clit. She raised up so he could tug off the panties and slide a finger inside of her; a finger she rode with eyes closed as her grip moved to his shoulders.
He pulled the straps of her dress down to expose her breasts, round and bobbing each time she bounced on his finger. He was actually jealous of that finger, wetness traipsing down as it pleasured her, her lip trapped by her teeth, her moans like a symphony.
With one hand, he unhooked the button on his jeans. Tayler’s eyes opened and her riding slowed as she tugged, pulling them down just enough that his cock was released, hard and preening.
She lifted and he maneuvered her forward. Her grip went back to his shoulders as she slid onto his cock, fingers clenching until he’d filled her to the hilt.
“You know the rules,” he said, groaning when she lifted, came down again.
Her muscles clenched around him. “You…can’t…always be in charge, Mr. Wolfe.”
He drove his hips into her and she cried out. “Yes, I can, Ms. Diaz.”
“Soon to be Mrs. Wolfe.”
It hadn’t dawned on him how important that declaration had been to him until it slipped from her mouth. He was possessive and protective. After everything that had happened between them, he had every right to be. But for her to take his last name so graciously…
He picked her up, walked them to the back of the couch, and let her down. She didn’t ask what they were doing or what she wanted him to do—she simply bent over the back of the couch.
He drove into her again. She wanted fast and hard, but he was going to give her slow and deep. He was going to give her lazy strokes that left his cock coated, left her panting and pleading. She always wanted faster because like this, easing in and out with a pace so torturous that even he had trouble keeping his head, she buckled. Like this, she was forced to push back against him, her soft bottom hitting against his pelvis, at a rhythm he controlled. Like this, her nipples rubbed against the fabric of the sofa and he had access to her clit, her most sensitive, sensual areas being loved at the same time. And like this, she arched her back as a deep moan erupted, as she held onto the sofa for dear life, as her felt her clenching him in satisfaction.
He erupted not long after, filling her with his seed, and nearly broke when he thought about what life would mean for them, would be for them, in less than a year.
“Gage,” Tayler said, breathing hard and slumped over the chair.
He massaged her back. “Yes, love?”
She looked back at him. “Again.”
The right side of his mouth hitched up as he hardened inside of her. “You know how this works, love. You ask and it’s yours.”